


Still Falling For You

by missbecky



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Age Difference, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Romance, seriously so much fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-08
Updated: 2016-10-08
Packaged: 2018-08-20 07:49:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8241830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missbecky/pseuds/missbecky
Summary: Here they are, twelve years on, a bit battered and worn, but still here. Still deeply in love.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the song of the same name, from Bridget Jones's Baby.

It's late when Eggsy wakes up, warm July sunlight creeping across the floor. He rolls over and stretches, arching his back in the kind of languorous luxury that only seems real on Sunday mornings.

Even before he's done, his eyes still closed, he's smiling. "How long you been awake?"

"Long enough," Harry says.

Eggsy rolls his head on the pillow and looks over at him. "Morning, love."

Harry smiles. "Good morning, my dear."

Eggsy grins. Daisy is coming over for lunch, but they don't need to get ready for a couple hours. Even with their unexpected lie-in, they have the rest of the morning to themselves.

He yawns and stretches again. His spine crackles and his leg gives a slight throb, warning him not to overdo it. "Guess I oughta get up."

"Or you could lie there all morning," Harry says. "But since I was planning to wash the sheets, that would foil my plans."

Eggsy laughs. "Well, we can't have that." He throws back the covers and climbs out of bed. The floor is warm beneath his bare feet; it's going to be a gorgeous day. They can have lunch in the back garden. Daisy doesn't mind fetching and carrying, and they'll have most of it set up before she gets here, anyway.

He turns back. Harry is sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for the stiffness to leave his joints. Twelve years into this thing they have and his hair has gone grey, but his shoulders are still as broad as ever beneath his striped pyjama top. And when he looks up at Eggsy, a faint question on his face, there's still the same fond smile playing about his mouth.

Eggsy shakes his head, unable to say why he's just standing there staring like a dope. He heads for the bathroom, wincing a little at his own stiff leg; his limp is always more pronounced in the morning.

It's a running thing between them that even at twice his age, Harry still moves more gracefully than he does. Some days it's a sore point. Some days it's an inside joke. On all days, it's theirs.

He shuts the bathroom door and stops dead. Gathered on the counter beside the sink are his razor, the bottle of his favourite aftershave, and a folded hand towel. All things kept in the little closet opposite the toilet. All things he would have to walk a few extra steps to reach. All things he knows perfectly well he didn't set out last night.

Harry must have done it when he got up in the middle of the night to pee, as he does most nights. Eggsy looks at the little cluster of objects on the counter and his chest tightens. After all this time they've been together, and it's still these little gestures, these little things, that mean so much.

Twelve years, he muses, standing in front of the toilet. Not continuous, no, but almost. He's been in this quiet little house in Stanhope Mews since the autumn after V-Day, when Harry was finally able to come home for good with a still-livid scar from Valentine's bullet and an appointment for physical therapy twice a week. He spent exactly one night sleeping alone in the guest room, then the next day found them tumbling onto the floor, pulling at clothing and swearing at each other. And ever since then he's shared the enormous bed with Harry.

He drops his clothes to the floor and starts the shower. Twelve years, and it's been mostly good times. There was only that one bad time, and even that is six years in the past, although sometimes, usually when they've been arguing, it doesn't seem so long ago at all.

When Harry reached his milestone birthday, he had panicked. It wasn't his first freakout about the age difference between them, but it was his last. And it was a doozy. For hours they stood in the living room hurling ugly words at each other, accusations of guilt and cowardice and all kinds of awful things. And at the end of it, Eggsy packed up half his shit and just left.

Five of the most miserable months of his life had followed. He remembers passing Harry in the hallway at HQ, both of them averting their eyes, barely murmuring a polite greeting. Going out for drinks with Roxy, ending up crying half the time, her arms around him for comfort. His mum insisting she was going to "have a few words" with Harry, while Daisy kept asking when Harry was coming over to take her out shopping like he had promised.

In the end he had finally decided to give it one last go. He had walked up to the house that was the only real home he had ever known, and knocked on the door. His breath had caught when Harry opened the door, standing there as though to deny him entrance.

And Eggsy hadn't been able to stop himself.

"You know that thing about how if you love something you're supposed to set it free? Well that's bullshit. It's total bullshit. 'Cause I love you, Harry Hart. And I want to be with you. All of you. Your temper, your morning breath, that stupid way you iron even your jeans -- I mean, seriously, who does that? But I don't care. I don't care how old you are or about all that stuff I'll never measure up to. I just want to be with you again."

Harry had just stared at him. "I miss you, too. Your ugly trainers and your rather rank feet and your insistence on leaving the dishes in the sink. I miss your smile and the way you burrow beneath the covers so only the top of your head sticks out. I miss you every second of every day. And I'm so sorry."

Eggsy had been seconds away from crying like a baby. "Then what the fuck are we doing?"

"I don't know anymore," Harry had said.

They had fallen together then, kissing each other all over, still standing in the doorway where anyone could see. And before the day was through, Eggsy had moved back in.

They haven't been apart since then.

He finishes up in the shower and steps out, taking care with his bad leg. Four years now since the mission that almost took his life and he still has to be careful. It really fucking sucks, but then again, it could have been a lot worse. He could have lost his leg. He could have wound up dead. Instead he got months in hospital, Harry by his side the entire time, and his own personal hell in physical therapy.

His career as a Kingsman agent ended that day, lying on the ground with his leg in shattered ruins. It sucks, but he's made his peace with it. He's a handler now. And a damn good one, too. Merlin says he'll take over the department soon. Eggsy preens a little with pride every time hears that, but he'll always miss being out in the field. It's just how it is.

At least he gets to guide Harry sometimes. Not that Harry is very active anymore these days. He gets all the quiet assignments, the steady surveillance, the sleight of hand required to plant a tracker on someone and then keep walking. He spends much of his time engaged in research and analysis, and though he is absolute crap at being a handler himself, he is nothing but encouraging in Eggsy's efforts.

It's not what he imagined when he joined Kingsman, but then again, sometimes life is better than the fantasy. After all, he's got everything he could want. His mum and sister are happy and provided for. He's got a job making a real difference in the world. His best friend is unanimously considered to be next in line for the role of Arthur. 

And after twelve years together, he's still deeply in love.

****

"Roxy says Statesman is a mess again," Eggsy offers as they putter around the house, getting things in order for their lunch with Daisy. "She says someone needs to go over there and sort them out."

Harry scowls. "I hope she didn't say that to anyone else. Roxy is a very smart woman, but she is not Arthur yet. He'll handle the Americans in his own way."

"Yeah, by doing a whole lot of nothing," Eggsy scoffs. He's not a big fan of the current Arthur, something he's not very good at hiding. It's got him into trouble more than once.

"Well, I didn't say it was a productive way," Harry says dryly.

Eggsy smirks as he puts the roast in the oven. A couple years after V-Day, Kingsman had offered Harry the title of Arthur. He had pitched a quiet but rather childish fit, and nothing had come of it. Merlin once hinted at some behind-the-scenes manipulation, even something as sinister as the threat of blackmail. Whatever it was, Harry remains Galahad, and Eggsy is glad of it. He's not looking forward to the day when Harry is forced to retire; the word _insufferable_ comes immediately to mind.

There's not much else to do for now. He sets the oven mitts down and shuffles into the dining room. Harry is polishing the enormous table, just in case they end up in here instead of eating outside. The collar of his shirt is open, his cuffs rolled up. There are more lines on his hands these days, but they are still strong and sure, and he still knows just how to touch Eggsy at night.

Eggsy sinks into the chair at the head of the table. Even now he vividly remembers sitting here the night he thought Harry had just died in front of that church in Kentucky. It's a grief he'll never forget.

"Don't get fingerprints on my table, please," Harry says mildly.

Eggsy looks up at him, the curl of grey hair that falls over his brow, the old scar winding its way across his temple, and his heart skips a beat. He knows Harry hates that scar, but Eggsy will forever love it. Only the living bear scars, after all.

And here they are, twelve years on, a bit battered and worn, but still here.

"What if I do?" he says. "What are you gonna do about it?"

"Oh, I'm sure I'll think of something," Harry says. He glances up at Eggsy and then he stops. He straightens up and looks at him properly. An amused smile tugs at his mouth.

"What?" Eggsy says, instantly suspicious.

"You have…" Harry's smile deepens, the dimple in his cheek peeking out. He sets the polishing rag down and walks over. "Here." 

He reaches out, his fingertips lightly brushing Eggsy's cheek. Eggsy gazes up at him, a shivery breath going through him at the touch.

"There," Harry says. "Got it."

****

Lunch is great fun. Daisy shares stories of what she and her mates are up to, and she keeps them both laughing. She helps with the clean-up, too, carrying most of the dishes into the house herself, while Eggsy comes along more slowly behind with Harry.

Afterward they watch a movie, but halfway through, Daisy loses interest and gets engrossed in her phone. "Charlene's comin' over," she finally says. "I better go."

Eggsy nods. He's met all of Daisy's friends, and yeah, he used Kingsman resources to vet them all, making sure they're who they say they are. He's not embarrassed about it, either. He's never again letting anyone fast-talk their way into his family, making promises they never meant to keep. Worse, making fists behind their back that they end up using on the same people they're supposed to protect.

Daisy gives them each a kiss and then breezes out. After she leaves the house feels more quiet than ever; even the volume on the telly seems muted.

He should probably get some laundry started. He's got a scheduled check-in later with Tristan, his only currently active agent. But that's not for a couple hours. For now his time is his own.

He turns sideways on the couch and sinks back, lying down and squirming a little on the cushions until he's comfortably settled with his head in Harry's lap.

"Hello," Harry says. He takes one of the throw pillows that adorns the couch and slides it beneath Eggsy's head.

"Hi," Eggsy says. He grins.

Harry smiles down at him, then turns his attention back to the movie they're supposedly watching. But he runs his fingers through Eggsy's hair, proof that he's not as aloof as he pretends to be.

Eggsy sighs happily. He takes Harry's free hand and rests it on his chest. He laces their fingers together, rubbing his thumb over an old scar that crosses the back of Harry's hand, gone white with age.

 _Mine_ , he liked to say when they were first starting out, when he was still so easily overwhelmed by how much he could love someone. And always Harry would kiss him back and say, _And you are mine._

All of this, Eggsy thinks. This life together, all their flaws and scars, all the little things that belong only to them. This love that still overwhelms him, even twelve years later.

It's easy to keep falling in love when he's got someone to catch him.


End file.
